


rewind

by aquamarine_nebula



Series: intermissions [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, some suggestive content, written just after ep 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamarine_nebula/pseuds/aquamarine_nebula
Summary: The rink was loud that day; Yuri throwing himself into spins as Mila goaded him from the background, Georgi talking to his girlfriend on the other side of the barrier.“Have you decided, Vitya?” Yakov asked, and Viktor bent to lace up his skates.“My priority has always been to surprise the audience.” Yakov said nothing, only watching him with that slight gleam in his eyes; it was the only hint he ever gave about caring about his students. “Maybe it’s time I try to surprise one person in particular.”





	

For all intents and purposes, Katsuki Yuuri had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Viktor had spent an embarrassing amount of time finding his various social media accounts, only to find that the boy posted _nothing_ about what he was up to, or where he was. He still stalked them religiously, although the chance that Yuuri would post something about him was slim to none.

It wasn’t just that he was utterly enamoured. He had the _prize_  to deliver after Yuuri had wiped the floor with Yuri,  Chris, and Viktor himself.

It was probably a vain hope to see him in Yoyogi, although his heart was in his throat the entire time, and torn right out of his chest when it was time to return to Russia.

He wondered whether it was retribution for all the times he’d let relationships fizzle to nothing, for the amount of people he’d broken up with on a whim because they just _didn’t_  have what he was looking for. That this boy had him laughing and lighter in a single night than he’d felt his entire life, and he was already _addicted_  to that feeling which was becoming less and less tangible…

He let the thought trail off and focused on the glittering rink before him. He had a job to do. Surprise the audience. Give himself to the world over and over so his entire body was an empty shell.

He skated, but couldn’t feel the ice beneath the blades. He spun so fast his vision gave way to black spots. Nothing. Absolutely nothing, no matter how deep he dug.

Turned out that everyone ran dry once they’d given all of themselves. His breath made hoarse sounds in his throat as he clutched at the front of his t-shirt. That was something else; he was _older_  than he had ever been, and it was showing in his endurance, in the ache of his joints, even in his _hair_.

Desperately, he grasped at the lightness he’d felt when Yuuri had been spinning him round, but he couldn’t hold onto something so ephemeral.

-

He took to scrolling through the photos and videos whenever he had a spare second, just for a few seconds of elation and a distraction from Yakov insisting he start thinking about the next season.

Same thing every year since he was a child. Perform, cast the entire year aside and work on the next one, only he was more reluctant to cast it aside this time. He could always rehash the theme, but that would never surprise anyone.

The rink was loud that day; Yuri throwing himself into spins as Mila goaded him from the background, Georgi talking to his girlfriend on the other side of the barrier.

“Have you decided, Vitya?” Yakov asked, and Viktor bent to lace up his skates.

“My priority has always been to surprise the audience.” Yakov said nothing, only watching him with that slight gleam in his eyes; it was the only hint he ever gave about caring about his students. “Maybe it’s time I try to surprise one person in particular.”

-

The routines came together slowly, then in a rush, one a plea and the other patient acceptance. The music he commissioned for them was two movements of the same piece, but after over a week of completing them both he was no closer to choosing.

“You could always get someone else to choose for you,” Yuri said one evening, slightly out of breath from the quadruple salchow he’d just performed. “Or pick randomly. It doesn’t really matter, right? They’re both good.”

“This is an important one, Yuri. Probably the most important one in my career.”

“You’re retiring after this year?” he asked, pensively looking down at his skates with a furrow in his brow.

Viktor didn’t answer.

He didn’t _have_  an answer. He didn’t want to admit that it all depended on how Yuuri reacted.

The Eros performance was plainly a cry to him to get in contact and do something about the chemistry they’d had, how he’d stolen Viktor’s heart with that beaming smile when asking Viktor to be his coach. The Agape performance was just the opposite, a promise to turn aside and let him go.

“I’ll decide tonight,” he vowed. Yuri shrugged.

“Whatever. I’ll still beat you.” He added something else about choreography, but Viktor didn’t pay attention, instead feeling the all-too-familiar panic at the prospect of retiring, becoming yet another benchmark rather than a real human.

-

In the end, he chose Agape.

Better to force himself to move on than risk rejection.

-

‘ _Did you see this?_ ’

The text from Chris was unexpected, and not entirely a good reminder. He pulled on Makkachin’s ears affectionately and the dog shuffled closer to him. He hadn’t meant to stay home, but after waking with an empty ache in his chest and stomach he couldn’t face going to the rink.

‘ _See what?_ ’

‘ _Link didn’t send. Wait a minute_.’

He waited more or less patiently until a link to YouTube came through. The title of the video was in Japanese, but his heart missed a beat when he recognised Yuuri in the thumbnail. The video already had half a million views, even though it had only been uploaded a few days previously.

Any thought of the Agape routine, of blundering through another couple of years of competing before fading into obscurity, shot out of his mind. Yuuri had beaten him to the punch, by skating Viktor’s routine, the one he’d developed as a battle against the loneliness he felt. And the amount of passion that he managed to saturate his performance with had Viktor unable to do anything but clutch the phone and stare.

He was falling and falling and there was nothing to catch him or that he could cling to. There was nothing of value here, not in the entirety of Russia if he didn’t skate, but Yuuri was calling for him to make good on his promise.

It took only seconds for the pieces to fall into place and for Viktor to decide to answer the call.

-

“He didn’t react like I expected him to,” Viktor said, cross legged on the blankets in front of Makkachin. “Why is he pushing me away now?”

Makkachin gazed at him in abject adoration, but made no attempt to answer.

“All I wanted to do was sleep in the same bed as him,” he grumbled. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept with another human.”

Makkachin carried on staring at him.

“Not that you aren’t wonderful to sleep with,” he added. “I’ll try again tomorrow. There’s no way he can go from asking me to dance to completely avoiding any physical contact with me.”

He pulled Makkachin to his chest and lay back. “What is he so scared of,” he grumbled, patting over the blankets until he found his phone and scrolling through the pictures and videos once more. “If I build up his confidence to this he can win. He can definitely win.”

-

Yuuri finally clicking with the performance was only half satisfying, and it didn’t help that Yurio built up his fears by offhandedly saying, “You didn’t have much of an effect on him, in the end, right?”

Viktor darted a quick look to Yuuri, who was poking at his food without much enthusiasm.

“It’s probably just embarrassment anyway,” Viktor insisted, and Yurio smirked.

“Or you’re more into him than he’s into you.”

“You’re fifteen, Yurio. You have no idea how complicated relationships are.”

“He chose a pork cutlet bowl over you. That seems simple to me.”

He sipped at his drink as a distraction, until Minako asked in English, “So, what’s happening with the costumes tomorrow?” 

“Oh, I completely forgot!” Yuuri said.

“I didn’t bring anything like that with me,” Yurio added.

“All taken care of!” Viktor announced, a bit brighter thanks to the alcohol dulling his mind. “I had all my costumes sent over from Russia. You can take your pick.”

Yuuri’s eyes shone when he chose. That costume was Viktor’s favourite also, from a point in his life where he wasn’t scared about his age because his entire career and life was stretched before him. From before he started worrying what people would think of him if he did what he wanted rather than what would surprise and enthral the public.

Yuuri tried it on that evening, and stood staring in the mirror with a bright blush on his cheeks. “What do you think?” he asked Viktor.

“Beautiful,” Viktor responded, taking it as a small victory when Yuuri bashfully lowered his eyes and a small, determined smile lit up his face.

-

Something had changed.

He wasn’t sure what, but Viktor was as entranced as he had been when Yuuri had captured him in Sochi all those months ago. His movements were confident, sensual, and if Viktor ignored the crowds and Yuuri’s promise to be a tasty pork cutlet bowl he could almost imagine that Yuuri was entirely dedicated to seducing him.

‘ _You’ve already done it_ ’, he thought desperately. He wanted nothing more than to have Yuuri in his arms, feel his heart trip and tumble in his chest. He hadn’t reacted when Yuuri had hugged him earlier, from the shock and the sudden need to savour how it felt.

He didn’t even notice Yurio leave. Not that it particularly mattered; he’d lost from the beginning. There was no way Viktor could pull himself away from Yuuri now.

He could hardly pull himself away from touching Yuuri afterwards, taking every opportunity to hold him and strengthening his resolve from the fact that it visibly comforted Yuuri.

-

When they were walking back from the beach Viktor was itching to take Yuuri’s hand.

Officially, he’d been rejected, which he felt a bit sore about. It wasn’t as if Yuuri had been particularly subtle in Sochi, but he seemed determined to ignore everything that had happened whilst Viktor was still caught by it. But that rejection was a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t a _true_  rejection, it was a rejection of everything Viktor pretended to be. For the first time since he could remember, he’d been told that _he_  was enough. And if that was the case, he could take this relationship as slowly as Yuuri needed.

“Practice tonight?” he asked softly.

Yuuri agreed, lighting up a little at the thought.

-

Watching him perform Eros was always something else, like looking back to a dream and forward to a tentative future simultaneously. Viktor loved watching him move, had some self-destructive fascination with Yuuri wearing his clothes, but this was… startlingly underwhelming.

Certainly, it was _correct_ , and he’d probably place first for his short programme, but no way would such a lukewarm performance result in a gold at the GPF. He made his displeasure obvious, barely managing to restrain himself from telling him to think about Sochi. Yuuri meekly accepted his criticism, even though Viktor could tell all those around him were berating him for being so harsh.

Not that it mattered. They hadn’t seen what he was capable of when he forgot his imagined limitations. And now that Viktor knew what he was capable of, he would accept nothing less.

-

It was as if everything had lead to that moment, which barely lasted a second before they were crashing on the ice and Viktor was cradling Yuuri’s head, hiding his face for a moment to compose himself as best he could.

“It was the only thing I could think of to surprise you as much as you’ve surprised me.”

He poured everything into his words, the surprise he’d felt from the beginning when Yuuri had walked away from him and then clumsily crashed into his heart, every time Yuuri had accepted him for who he was, every time he’d looked at him and fallen all over again.

Objectively, it was probably the worst kiss he’d ever given, but it didn’t dull the adoration in Yuuri’s expression once the shock melted away.

“Really?” he said, a mixture of fond exasperation and affection colouring his voice.

-

It was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. From the moment Viktor had gone to enter his own room and Yuuri had caught his hand everything was tinted with rose colours.

“You could always sleep in my room. If… if you’re not too tired,” his eyes darted everywhere but Viktor, dawn on his cheekbones and galaxies in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time Viktor had been propositioned and it wasn’t the first time he’d accepted, but he could almost believe that every other person he’d woken up beside had been a mistake.

Everything in his life had lead him to Yuuri, after all.

“I’m not too tired,” he whispered, almost silently.

Since China, they’d exchanged a couple more kisses, all instigated by Viktor. Yuuri had been willing, soft beneath his hands, but even if he’d been aching to take it further, this moment was where it fit perfectly. Once Viktor had undeniable proof that Yuuri would always put him first, once Yuuri had undeniable proof that Viktor never wanted to leave his side. It was a heady bliss after their promise, and unbearably warm when Yuuri went on his tiptoes to kiss Viktor.

Viktor wouldn’t admit that the few hours of sleep he’d managed to catch had been in Yuuri’s bed to ward of loneliness. There was no point, when Yuuri was beneath him, chasing away every shadow in Viktor’s spirit with his soft gasps and phrases that switched from Japanese to English too swiftly for Viktor to follow. After, Viktor couldn’t pull away, instead memorising his reactions when he pressed kisses to his forehead, his cheekbones, his jawline, down his neck.

“How can you look at me as if _you’re_  the lucky one?” Yuuri marvelled, carding fingers through his hair and down his spine.

“I’ve waited long enough for this,” Viktor said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He was still clueless? What did he expect, that Viktor would _forget_  everything that happened?

“Really?”

Viktor eyed him. “What did you expect?”

Yuuri squirmed against him when Viktor lightly traced down his ribs. “I’ve given up _expecting_  anything when you’re involved.”

Viktor muffled a laugh against his shoulder. “Given how we met, I think that’s my line.”

Yuuri blinked and looked at him with an odd expression. Viktor took it upon himself to kiss it away.

-

“I really… don’t remember any of this.” Yuuri was scrolling frantically through the photos and videos, slowly getting redder and redder. He jolted when Viktor pushed his bed up against Yuuri’s and stared at the tiny gap before looking at Viktor questioningly.

“We’re engaged. It’s about time we slept in the same bed.” He watched Yuuri’s ears turn red as he twisted the golden band around his finger. “Unless you feel like you can’t control yourself.”

Yuuri pointedly turned back to the phone. “Th-this… dance.”

Viktor knelt behind him. If he wasn’t so blindingly content, he’d be embarrassed, in all honesty. Every little flirtatious way he’d acted, the presumptuous way he’d announced himself as Yuuri’s coach, the _heartache_  whenever Yuuri shut him out ran through his mind. At least he could understand _why_  Yuuri had acted that way now.

“I did think you’d react more strongly to the choreography,” Viktor admitted. “I designed it with you in mind, after all.”

“Yurio said you’d been putting it together for your short programme.”

“That’s right.”

“So… when you still expected you’d be competing this season.”

A smile played around Viktor’s mouth. “That’s right,” he repeated, letting Yuuri slowly puzzle it through.

“Before you came to Hasetsu.”

Viktor pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, reaching to twist their hands together tight enough that their rings would leave red marks on their fingers. “In all honesty, you’ve broken my heart an impressive amount of times over the year.”

Yuuri was silent, his ears bright red and resolutely facing away from Viktor. “And Agape?”

Viktor swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to put myself on the line if there was a chance of you rejecting me.”

“Did you choose?”

Viktor pressed his cheek against Yuuri’s hair, reaffirming his existence. “Agape.” Yuuri stiffened. “And I felt completely hollow. Chris sent me a link of your video the next day.”

“Did you regret it?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking once.

“Never,” Viktor vowed in a low voice. “You may have broken my heart, but at least you _gave_  me a heart in the first place, and fixed it every time.” He still didn’t turn back. “It may have been frustrating, but”–he brought Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed the ring–“I wouldn’t change it.”

“From the beginning I thought about you when I was skating Eros. I just skated with the thought that you would leave at some point.”

“I’m not leaving your side.”

Yuuri looked down at their hands entwined on the bed and the identical rings that adorned them. “I guess not.”


End file.
